52nd City

South City Fatwa

Local writer John Goddard posted this to various weblists in the last 24-hours:

I hereby submit my intent to fight Thomas Crone and Steven Fitzpatrick
Smith at the upcoming Hoosierweight Boxing event on October 16th at
Bastante in St. Louis, Missouri. First Crone, then Fitzpatrick Smith.
It's only fair to Fitzpatrick Smith that Crone gets to soften me up a
little.

I'll spare you all the details of my reasons for needing to do this,
but I will say that each man has managed to hurt and insult me. I had
always hoped that I could think of each of them as friends and
creative peers, but the spurning of my honest and heartfelt attempts
at reconciliation and understanding between myself and each of them
was particularly injurious to my sense of honor, manners and fair
play. Those of you who know me well can say what you will about my
fabled touchiness and sensitivity, but you should know that I refused
a challenge to box from Mr. Crone some time ago, that I have
suppressed my indignation for some months and tried to let it fade
away with time. It was only a week ago that I decided I must fight. If
you'd like some insight into what I've been feeling over the last
months, read either interpretation of this story from the Bhagavad Gita:

http://www.askasia.org/frclasrm/lessplan/l000059.htm
http://www.boloji.com/mahabharata/17.htm

When I think of Arjuna's predicament on the battlefield, I can't help
but notice some uncanny mythical resonance in my own situation.

I've never believed that fighting could solve or "settle"
misunderstandings, and I still don't. I also think that boxing is a
ridiculous sport. Furthermore, I believe the concept of competition
itself is symptomatic of a tragically flawed social paradigm and the
cause of the troubled times we all presently endure. Additionally,
dualities are the currency of the ill-informed.

Et cetera and so forth.

I've learned from reliable sources that some talk regarding me has
managed to make its way around town since the unsavory interactions in
question. A number of people I thought were friends now regard me
coldly if they regard me at all, and this hurts. I never meant to hurt
anyone, but from the developments of the last year, it sure seems as
if someone's got it in for me. Unacceptable. I did some crazy, stupid
and overly dramatic things back in my heavy drinking days, but I've
never done anything unforgivable and I'm not going to forever beat
myself up for having been an obnoxious drunk in the past.

I do, however, intend to give Crone and Fitzpatrick Smith the fights
of their lives on the 16th of October at the Hoosierweight bouts at
Bastante. I have no desire to win anything. I'm not interested in
shaming anyone, and there will be no grandstanding on my part at this
boxing match. I just want the bad dreams, the hurt and the indignation
I've suffered as the result of certain words and actions to go away.
Since this apparently can't be accomplished through gentlemanly means,
I intend to do away with the unwanted energies by expressing my
feelings in the boxing ring. I tried using words, but apparently only
my fists will reach these men's ears.

So be it. I'll box Crone, then Fitzpatrick Smith, then I'll go home. I
don't need glory, attention or a championship belt. It's just as well
that I don't care about the afterparties since I won't be invited.

For the record, folks, I don't work out so I can beat people up. I've
never in my life struck another human being in the face with closed
fists. I am, as they say, a lover, not a fighter.

One night at The Royale back in May, Steven Fitzpatrick Smith smugly,
gaily chuckled to one of his employees, "Oh, John's not going anywhere."

He was right. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here in St. Louis,
waiting to hear what time I need to show up at Bastante on the 16th.